Beautiful

One day, when I had longer hair, I fixed it up. It was curly and down and my version of ‘beautiful’. The story starts in second period, because no one commented or said anything about my hair for first or homeroom.

I was walking down the hallway, almost late to class, when I got my first comment. It was from a white boy with blond and neat hair; “bad hair day, Veronica” he asked.

I couldn’t respond, I was so astonished and surprised that I couldn’t think of a comeback. Of course now I can, but back then… Back then my world collapsed a bit. It was if lightning at struck me where I haven’t been hurt before. In math class, I couldn’t focus because I was questioning myself a bit. ‘Has it always looked bad? Why hasn’t anyone told me?’

The bell rang and it was time for nutrition. Then it rang again, saying it’s time for third period.

I walked down the hallway to English and I got another comment. A black girl with straight hair walked past me with her giggly group of friends. “Can’t afford to straighten it? Figures,” she laughed.

The lightning struck me again and this time I had a comeback, but I my mouth didn’t work. I was in shock. My mind was reeling because, man, when it rains it pours! They say lightning never strikes twice in the same place but whoever said that obviously didn’t know a thing about lightning.

In fourth period, everyone was to busy shouting at me to move to actually insult me. Of course, I got the occasional “Go to the back, you’re hair is blocking my view” or, “move your hair” and, “next time, sit where you aren’t bugging anybody with your hair”.

In fifth period, people were to busy panicking about the test we were taking to care. But I cared. I finished my test early and began to draw girls with hair like mine. I guess that’s why I draw, because people on the page in front of me are almost always more beautiful than me.

In sixth period, people did what they always did, take my mouse and delete my documents whenever I left my desk.

When I went home, I looked in the mirror and I suddenly didn’t see myself as beautiful. I saw a girl with light-brown skin, brown eyes, and dark brown hair. I felt like I wanted not to know her but I did know her. That girl who I saw as ugly was me, and I hated her.